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I was nearly 11 years old when the orphanage finally made the decision to get rid of me. They never liked me, you see, so as soon as they had the chance, they dumped me off with a pair of foster parents who had a known history of venturing off on constant trips and neglecting their foster children. This suited me fine. At that point, I would have done just about anything to get out of the orphanage, and I much preferred to be alone anyways.
My new foster parents promptly made the decision to go away on another trip, leaving me to my own devices. Unfortunately, they seemed to realize that they were very close to losing their license, so they hired a caregiver to look after me. That was where Uchiha Shisui came in. He was young, maybe 16 or 17, but very mature and sharp as a tack. Cunning too, there was something wily about him that glinted danger, hard to see beneath his cheerful facade.
I didn’t like him at all. I was Tom Riddle, a no-name orphan who wanted very badly to make a name for himself, and somehow this made me into a rather impudent child. A bit of a rebel, really. I was always the leader, and I liked to take control. But I fancied myself a rather clever fellow, not prone to outrageous outbursts. So when I first came through the door from where I’d been reading out in the backyard and saw him leaning against the counter, I simply gave him a tight smile. I’d get rid of him soon enough.
But he stayed on. I was very angry with him at first. He refused to even let me out of the house at the beginning, perhaps because we were at the height of the war, but I did not take kindly to having my freedoms restricted. I felt it was enormously unfair when he went on little trips, missions, he’d call them, leaving and not letting me come with him. He’d return with a strange light in his eyes, claiming I should be glad I didn’t come. That I was a young child unsuited for such things. I didn’t know it then, but they were shinobi missions, tasks filled with dark things such as assassination and death. Strange things for such a cheerful man as Shisui.
Eventually he began to grow on me. Partially out of proximity, partially out of respect that he could keep up. I was a devious little manipulator even as a young child, and a consummate liar. I’d lie about anything just to contradict people or to feel like I had something on them. But it never worked on Shisui. He laughed, the first time he asked what type of screwdrivers we had and I answered flat heads, even though I knew we only had Philips. Pointless, perhaps, but as I may have mentioned earlier, I had a certain disregard for the rules. Naturally, lying and deception appealed enormously. And I was good at it too, meaning Shisui’s ability to sniff me out utterly enraged me. You have a tell, he’d said, when I’d asked him, demanding and impatient. Your lips quirk at the side, they pull and tighten, see? You can’t lie to me. But good try!
Yes, that was Shisui, foiling all my schemes with a smile. He was surprisingly emotionally aware for an assassin and he liked to talk about it too. Emotions, that is. At first, I thought he was just into that gooey sort of crap, but then I realized he was seeing something in me. That same glint he had in his own eyes, he saw in mine, and he wanted to make sure I didn’t go down the same route.
The day I realized this was when he compared me to Uchiha Itachi. You remind me of my cousin, he said, after I made a particularly well worded argument. I scowled, because although I, too, was a child, I detested being compared to other children. I wanted to be different. Special. Your little cousin, I demanded, insulted. We’re nothing alike.
He eyed me carefully. Maybe you aren’t, he muttered. Itachi’s too kind. Maybe you’re more like me. Dangerous, he didn’t say, but I heard it all the same. Cunning and selfish and cruel, and altogether too dangerous. I didn’t mind though. I knew what I was. It was a shame I couldn’t fool Shisui into thinking otherwise, but he had always been too good for me to conceal my true nature. Eventually, I barely bothered trying anymore.
One would think things would change once I found out I was a wizard, but Shisui continued to stay on through it all. Shinobi were apparently already aware of magic, so it was hardly a surprise to him. Boy, had I been enraged. Someone keeping secrets from me? It was a wonder I hadn’t tried to kill him right then and there. I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t. I was an arrogant little brat, but I was logical enough to realize that a true fight with Shisui was not one I would be coming out of intact. Perhaps that’s something I should have done a better job at remembering.
A year at Hogwarts came and went. I developed my reputation very quickly, terrorizing the other Slytherins into submission. The house of the cunning and the ambitious. I had assumed it would pose more of a challenge then it did, but no. It was easy. A few carefully placed words, an accident or two, a near life threatening injury once they escalated… And that was it. I found myself very disappointed. Was there truly no competition within the whole of Hogwarts? Looking for something, anything of interest, I turned towards the teachers. This too was no challenge at all. I charmed the whole staff with ease. The only one who spared a thought to doubt me was Albus Dumbledore, but even then, he didn’t look at me the same way that Shisui did. Wary yet entertained, with his own spark of danger.
It was with this in mind that I returned to my home in London, leaving the world of magic behind me for the summer. And while I would normally bemoan returning to a world of utter ordinariness, it was different this time. Shisui was there waiting for me.
When I walked in the door, Shisui was in the kitchen, clothing pristine, but for the faintest scent of iron clinging to his shirt. His sword was still at his side. He hadn’t had time to put it away yet, clearly having just returned from a mission at the warfront. When he turned to me, there was a split second before the flinty shards of hardness in his eyes were masked with his usual cheerful enthusiasm.
And how was school, Tom? Making lots of friends, like the social butterfly you are?
Friends. As if. No one there was worth my time. The wizarding world was small-minded and stupid, and the only reason I had bothered interacting with my peers was to make them regret their initial transgressions against me. Afterwards, it was for the challenge of converting them, but as I mentioned previously, that was no challenge at all. Perhaps I would be more satisfied once I had them wrapped around my thumb. It would be amusing to have all the uppity pureblood heirs prostrating themselves before me.
None of this showed on my face. I’ve been talking to Abraxus Malfoy, I said, radiating nothing but youthful eagerness. He makes for a very interesting conversation partner. This was not completely false. Once I set up a couple potions accidents, he came around quite quickly and was happy to go along with my desires. Abraxus was a veritable fountain of obscure knowledge and I took pleasure in draining him dry.
A pureblood hanging out with a muggleborn, of their own free will. A Malfoy, hanging out with a muggleborn. He pinned me with a look. What exactly did you do?
My eyebrows twitched down, the perfect picture of dejected hurt. He has certain prejudices, it’s true, but I don’t see why you would accuse me of doing anything. In any case, I’m sure he’ll overcome them soon. I expect he’ll come to regard me more highly in the future.
I’m sure, Shisui said wryly. His eyes were as knowing as always. You can drop the schoolboy tone though. I’m not going to report you or anything. It was positively unfair, the way he saw straight through me, no matter what I attempted. There was a reason I had stopped trying with Shisui a long time ago. I suppose being at school had left me feeling invulnerable, inflating my ego to near unimaginable levels. It was just like Shisui to puncture it.
No, he continued, I’m not going to report you. What I am going to do is warn you. I don’t know exactly how you got your level of clout as a first year muggleborn, but I can imagine. And while it’s true that most of them are stupidly prejudiced, and it’s impressive you managed to work around it, I’m telling you to be careful.
Careful, I repeated. I thought about the burn marks on the potions classroom wall. The decapitated cat placed on my neighbour’s bed. The upper year student who would lie in the long term care ward for the next three years.
I know you don’t care about the people you hurt so long as you get what you want. That’s fine. So instead, I’ll say it like this. Shisui looked me in the eyes. You’re a brilliant kid, Tom. But even brilliant kids get caught. Reckless idiots who think they’re above the rules especially. Everyone slips up, Tom. And when they do… it isn’t pretty.
My temper immediately flared. Remember, I was a very prideful boy, and Shisui’s warning irritated me beyond belief. He’d called me brilliant, it was true, but he’d also called me reckless and an idiot. I didn’t appreciate being insulted, and I certainly didn’t appreciate being told what to do. I couldn’t let that stand. Shisui had told me to drop the act, and in my rage, I did just that.
And what would you know? I spat.
Shisui’s hand tightened on his sword as he chuckled mirthlessly. I catch them, he said. And trust me. You wouldn’t want me coming after you.
I should have pressed further. I should have accepted the warning. But no. I, in all my prideful, idiotic glory, fumed in silence and said no more. I decided to simply become more cautious and secretive concerning my fairly illegal activities, and just like that, the moment had slipped away.
Shisui dropped the serious tone and leaned back on the countertop. He clapped his hands, suddenly cheery once more. Now let’s see some spells!
Things settled once more, and life continued on, for as frustrating as I found him, Shisui was ultimately my only true equal. Well, he was hardly my equal, but back then, that’s exactly what I thought we were. He was the only one that could keep up with me, and the only one to challenge me in turn, so while it’s embarrassing to admit, I ended up gravitating around him like a small planet to the sun. An apt comparison in more than one sense of the word, for he was shiny and bright, distracting people with his brilliant grin and sparkling charisma. It was on the inside where his true self lay, that deadly core that burned with molten iron.
One day, there was a knock on the door. Shisui went to answer it. We never got visitors, so of course I slipped behind the curtains in order to spy on their interactions.The visitor was Tiberius Malfoy, a tall blonde man with a sneer across his face and derision in his eyes. Apparently he knew Shisui from somewhere. There was a political disagreement of some sort between some of the lords and the shinobi factions, and he had come to threaten Shisui into compliance. Malfoy’s words were incredibly insulting, and talks soon turned heated. Malfoy was armed and Shisui was not, so when they went from heated to outright aggressive, I couldn’t keep myself from acting.
Depulso, I shouted, drawing my wand. Malfoy had his out in a flash, parrying and sending another spell flying my way. I frantically scrambled for any other spells I knew. Soon, spell fire lit up the dining room. I was very good for my age. But Malfoy was a full grown adult wizard, and I had only just finished first year. And while I was holding my own, there’s no question that I ultimately would have lost if not for Shisui. In the midst of the chaos, I had forgotten that he was, after all, a shinobi, and supremely dangerous even without a wand.
After he dumped Malfoy’s body outside on the curb, he turned to me with a chiding look. You always have to start a fight, he said disapprovingly, for I was quick to anger and eager to take vengeance. I glared and turned away. Although I was normally more subtle about my methods, I did have quite the temper. It wasn’t out of character for me to retaliate for the insult of a Malfoy showing up at our door spewing such condescending words. But as much as I didn’t want to admit it, it hadn’t been about starting a fight this time. It was to protect Shisui. My expression didn’t change in the slightest at this frankly alarming realization, but it was for naught. As usual, he saw right through me.
A curving smile spread across his face. Or is that it, he asked teasingly, you were worried about me? You’re so sweet, aren’t you, chibi-kun.
I wasn’t worried, I said angrily. I don’t care about you at all. But Shisui kept pestering until I grew completely fed up and stormed out of the room.
As I thought about what had just happened, it was as if something dark and hollow crept under my skin. I had almost gotten badly injured. I had started a fight I couldn’t have won without help, and what’s more, I’d done it for Shisui.
None of these realizations pleased me. I didn’t appreciate that something inside me had apparently deemed Uchiha Shisui as a person deserving of my affection and protection. More than that, I had been acting stupidly without any thought of self preservation, and had clearly overestimated my own capabilities.
That was completely unacceptable. I needed to be smarter, yes, but most of all I needed to be better. Stronger, more powerful. I refused to be an incapable, helpless child ever again.
I sat at the top of the towering staircase overlooking the hallway, my back pressed against the imposing oaken doors. Yes, something had to change. Something had to change now.
The solution came to me on our trip to Diagon Alley. There was a quiet little bookstore on the very edge of the street that sold specialty international novels you couldn’t find anywhere else. It was simple to fake an interest. Shisui knew well that I liked to be the smartest person in the room, and broadening my knowledge base in other cultures was not particularly out of character for me.
What he didn’t know was that the shop also sold blacklisted books. The dark ones. The terrible ones. The books I needed if I was going to take the fast track to the throne of power that I so desired. They smuggled them in from the back, their side door leading straight to Knockturn Alley. It was a good business, and they even concealed the covers and the text with specific spells to avoid detection.
It was dangerous. It was illegal. It was morally wrong. But I knew I could become so much more powerful if I learned dark magic. I cracked the first book open that night, and was immediately reassured that I’d made the correct decision. These spells— when I eventually mastered them all, I knew for sure it would put me on a meteoric ascent. Not in the light, but perhaps much like Shisui, I could live in the shadows. I would rule there, bending others to my will and reveling in my full potential.
It worked for a time. The books got darker and darker, with penalties for owning them slowly shifting from a year in jail to the Dementor’s kiss. I’d work hard to contain my laughter as I read them carefully by candlelight, smuggling them in under the pretence of learning about magic in France and America. I cast detector spells at the edge of my door, and they warned me whenever Shisui drew near. And although I still couldn’t lie to him, I was well practiced in deception and I often didn’t need to lie directly.
It was even easier once I was back at school. It also gave me the opportunity to finally test my spells. I never thought I would be the type of person who indulged in needless torture, but once I started, it was difficult to stop. Watching people twitch and scream and observing the effects of some of the more gruesome curses was addictively entertaining. Paired with some of the memory charms I had learned, I was able to get away with nearly anything. It felt like a constant high. It seemed like I would never get caught.
Nothing lasts forever. Shisui found out in the end. It was the winter break, and I had gone home for the holidays. He confronted me in the kitchen with the latest book detailing horrific torture spells spread in his hands. His face, when he turned to me, was drawn into lines of such severe disappointment and condoning that I nearly broke down right then and there. I didn’t, of course. Instead, I buckled down, smoothing my features and preparing for the fight of my life.
The Grimoire of the Dark Arts, he stated, cheerful tone nowhere to be found.
Dark magic, I responded, lacing my voice with the barest hint of confusion.
That’s right, Shisui answered. He snapped the book shut and turned towards the window, showing his white knuckled hands held tightly behind his back.
Tom, he said calmly, do you know what I do? I did know by this point. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, I wasn’t interested in being a killer for hire. I didn’t want to kill for anyone except myself. Interesting, but not my cup of tea.
You’re a shinobi, I answered. I followed his lead, matching his tone and body language as I leaned casually against the counter top.
Yes, Shisui said. I’m a shinobi. I’m a hired killer, Tom. And do you know who we kill?
He didn’t wait for an answer this time.
Powerful people. Threats. Anyone who’s a danger, anyone who can’t live inside the rules. That’s who we kill. Stupid, powerful, childish dark wizards with ego complexes who don’t know when to quit? They’re at the top of the list.
I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.
And when we’re talking about kills, I don’t mean one, or ten. I’m talking in the hundreds, Tom. They all think they’re powerful, invincible, even. That didn’t stop me from chopping off their heads and bringing them back in a scroll.
My mouth was dry. I wet my lips. That’s nice to know. Nonchalant. Vaguely confused. I’d spent years perfecting my mask, and it was firmly set in place.
His gaze pinned me in place. Nice try, he said. You’ve been ordering those international books for months now. Don’t think I didn’t notice Knockturn Alley is right beside the store.
I laughed. It’s the only store I can get them at. You can’t accuse me of dark magic just because of its slightly inconvenient location.
I found this book in the same bag. And you were clearly eagerly anticipating it. Dark magic, Tom. Are you really so far gone?
That’s defamation of character, I observed. Your evidence is poor and now you’re just showing how lowly you think of me. A rather cruel judgment.
Cruel. Shisui flipped the book open, and showed me a particularly nasty page. This curse, it turns a person inside out. Now that’s cruel. And I know you, you’re a curious one. You like to test things.
You’re too quick to accuse, I said coldly. I was out of patience. It’s not my book.
My most deliberate lie yet. Shisui’s eyes were glued to the curve of my lips, and he laughed as I said it. Not a happy laugh, no, it was full of bitterness and something else I couldn’t name. I didn’t want to believe it, he said. It was just a warning. But you, Tom Riddle, always digging a deeper hole for yourself.
I don’t know what you mean, I maintained.
Don’t be a child.
A flash of rage overtook me. Who was he to threaten me? To tell me what I could and couldn’t do? I am not a child, I hissed.
At that, he paused, and as he did so, something complex changed in his expression. No, I suppose you aren’t, he concluded slowly. You’re not just the kid I look after anymore, are you? You’re smart and you’re independent. You’re responsible for your own actions.
A dark thread of resolve crept into his tone. I stiffened.
Shisui… I said.
Those books you have are illegal, he continued. Morally reprehensible and dark beyond imagining. And owning this grimoire? Instant death penalty. Last chance, Tom. Give it up. Stop this.
I could have admitted to it. I could have dropped to my knees before him, and begged and pleaded for my life. But who would I be if I did that? No, I was Tom Riddle, and I never stopped, never did anything that wasn’t for my own desires. I was the type of person who would cut off my nose to spite my own face, and it was this prideful arrogance that would ultimately lead to my downfall.
It’s not mine, I told him one last time, lips firmed and fingers closing around pointed wood.
Shisui laughed again, soft and low. I knew you’d say that, he said quietly.
He drew his sword and swung.